Blackstairs Stories
by OTP-addict
Summary: This is a collection of short Blackstairs stories, one written before the release of Lady Midnight, the rest after. Updates will depend on how often I get inspired to write. Also, Mark and Cristina will make a few appearances as a couple. All characters belong to Cassandra Clare.
1. Unbroken

**A/N:** This fanfic was written before Lady Midnight came out and is based on the snippet at the end of the Tales from Shadowhunter Academy (where Emma heals Julian with the new _parabatai_ magic rune stuff). It picks up right where the snippet ended. Hope you enjoy :)

 **Unbroken**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

Julian stared at Emma. The rune was healing him faster than anything he had ever experienced. As he looked in her eyes, he felt something shift – his ability to restrain himself, he realized. He saw it in Emma's eyes, as well. Someone leaned forwards, someone reached for the other, and their lips met.

The urgency of the kiss was overwhelming. Years of pent up passion, longing, and wanting but not being able to have, breaking free and soaring around in the crammed space of the car as the two revelled in the feel of the other's mouth and skin and warmth. Emma's hands roamed through Julian's hair, his arms wound around her waist, pressing her against him. Their lips were pressed bruisingly hard together. Tongues danced and teeth clashed.

Julian felt like he was falling freely through the air, his body entwined with Emma's. They were rapidly getting closer and closer to the ground, and as they struck, realization hit them both and they split suddenly.

Emma looked like she could cry. Julian understood how she felt.

She removed herself clumsily from his lap and rummaged through the floor of the car for something, he didn't know what.

"Emma," Julian said.

She kept feeling around for whatever it was she was looking for, and as her hands emerged, he saw a cleansing wipe in them. She began wiping blood off of her hands and arms.

"Emma, look at me," Julian tried again.

"What do you want me to say?!" Emma shouted, unshed tears in her eyes, as she hurled the wipe aside with enough power that it smacked hard against the dashboard of the car.

Julian was baffled at her sudden outburst, but she continued.

"You want me to say that it's all gonna be fine, and that we'll work it out and we can be together? Because we can't! And you know that, and I know that, and the whole goddamn Shadowhunter WORLD knows that! So what do you want me to say? You want me to tell you just how long I've been in love with you? Or how I've been dying to tell you and kiss you and leave it all behind and do what I want? Or do you want me to tell you how I've been praying to God and all the angels that, if nothing else, you wouldn't feel the same way?"

Now he had to stop her. "Why would you pray–"

"Because otherwise I would have no excuse," Emma interrupted, much more quietly than her previous speech, but at the same time infinite amounts more passionately. She leaned into Julian and continued where they had left off. And he was in the air again. But instead of falling, now he was flying.

"You don't… make… any sense," he whispered between kisses, smoothing his hand over her hair, continuing down her neck to her spine, all the way down to the small of her back, tracing the shape of a heart there. She shivered. He loved it.

"Mmh," Emma replied. Julian knew it meant, "I don't care, shut up."

And she landed right back in his lap, her hands running up his bare chest, her hair tickling his face and neck, her smell enveloping him, submerging him in a world of Emma.

The real world fell away to nothing, and they soon realized that giving in was what would save them, not what would condemn them. Holding back left them both broken. Giving in was what mended them, what made them whole, what made them unbroken.


	2. Yellow Light

**A/N:** This story was inspired by the song Yellow Light by Of Monsters and Men (an amazing Icelandic band – if you don't already know them, go listen to the song... and all of their other songs, tbh they're all amazing). In this specific story I decided that Emma knew she loved Julian much sooner than in the book, just so you know. Enjoy :)

 **Yellow Light**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

As she drifted through darkness, Emma saw a yellow light shining, calling out to her like a familiar voice whispering her name. Amid the pitch black depths of unconsciousness this light was a small, radiant sun. She reached for it. It disappeared like a lamp switched off.

Somewhere in her mind Emma knew she was hurt. She knew that the demon which had attacked her from behind must have caused some serious damage. But she also knew that she wasn't dying. Because she could feel Julian's presence, somewhere above this sea of oblivion. She knew that he had saved her from a horrible fate.

Didn't he always?

The light reappeared. This time Emma thought strategically. She watched the light flickering softly for several minutes. Whenever her gaze diverted from it, it glowed impossibly brighter. Funny, she thought to herself. It reminded her of how she looked at Julian. She always composed her face into a mask of friendly love whenever he or anyone else was watching. But on nights like the ones they'd spend together, falling asleep together, she could look at him sleep with her true feelings unhidden on her face.

Emma slowly inched towards the glowing orb. It sputtered and faded, and she leaped across the remaining distance; in vain. The light was gone.

She was stuck here, it seemed. And with what purpose, she wondered. She wanted to return to the world of the living, to her Julian. Oh, how she wished she could wake up from this dream and embrace him with all of the love that she normally had to hide.

"Emma."

Her name was a fuse suddenly lit, igniting a series of images, memories. Running on the beach, fighting Mantid demons with Mark, training with Drusilla, hugging Tavvy to her chest, making pancakes with Julian, untying sea glass from Church's collar, kissing Julian, touching Julian, talking to Julian, fighting with Julian–Julian, Julian, Julian.

Emma bolted upright with a gasp. For a moment she sat catching her breath; then she noticed tousled brown curls and sea blue-green eyes beside her.

"Are you okay?" Julian asked. His eyes were accompanied by dark circles and sleepiness, but they were wide, concerned.

"No," Emma automatically answered. She really wasn't.

"Are you in pain? Do you need another _iratze_?" Julian sounded even more worried now.

She shook her head slowly. She was dizzy, lightheaded, but not for the reason that Julian might think.

"Emma?"

She looked up at him. This time without concealing her feelings, without dimming the yellow light in the presence of the culprit of her emotions. "I love you," she said. "Do you know that?"

He looked slightly stunned. "Of course. I–"

"No," she interrupted, "in your studio, when you asked me to tell you that I loved you, you said 'Even if you don't mean it.' Why would I not mean it?"

Julian now looked positively shocked.

"How could you think I didn't feel the same way about you?"

"I…" Julian's words seemed to fail him.

"Yes?" Emma said.

In a second she was in his arms, her lips against his, and she wondered if she had been granted a wish by the yellow light.


	3. Pain

**A/N:** Takes place on a routine demon patrol gone wrong. Thank you so much to  Emma Carstairs Blackthorn for reviewing, this is for you (it's a bit longer than the others)! Enjoy :)

 **Pain**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

There was something about pain that intrigued Julian. Something about the different kinds of pain; physical, mental, emotional. Something that made him stop for a moment, whenever he was hurt, and wonder, _What even is pain_?

"Julian!" he heard his _parabatai_ scream from a distance.

He lifted his head slowly from where he was lying, a demon's claw protruding from his chest. The world began spinning, and he lowered his head back down.

"Julian," Emma shouted again as she reached his side. "Oh, my God. No. No, no, no!" She was shivering, Julian noticed, and crying, tears rolling down her cheeks as she ripped her jacket off to press against the wound.

He reached his hand up, wiping away the tears. "It's okay," he said, noting that his voice was hoarse.

"It's not okay, Julian, you're hurt! You're really badly _hurt_!" Emma sobbed, frantically fumbling around in her pockets for her stele.

He hesitated. "That's true. But it'll be alright anyway," he said. His mind was growing foggy with pain and blood loss.

He felt a burning sensation on his ribs; Emma had retrieved her stele and was drawing an _iratze_ , her hand shaky but steady. While she drew, Emma slowly took out the claw so that the injury would heal where it was being removed, without too much blood being spilt. Julian closed his eyes for a few moments.

There was also something very specific about the pain of receiving a Mark. He had known it from the very first time a Mark was put on him, but recently something had changed about it. Usually a rune given by your _parabatai_ was less painful, but this one, just like the few before it, stung more than a rune drawn on his skin by anyone else, or himself.

"Why does it do that?" he whispered to no one in particular, but she heard him, it seemed.

"Do what?" she asked as she finished removing the claw and drawing the healing rune. She sat back to admire her work. She had calmed down considerably, but she was breathing heavily, and there were still drying tears on her face.

"It hurts," Julian replied, his eyes still closed.

Emma was silent for a while. Then he felt her hand on his chest, right above where she had drawn the rune. Her hand was cool to the touch. Or maybe he was feverish.

"And it glows, why does it do that?" he asked again.

"It's not supposed to," she said, almost inaudibly, but he heard her nonetheless.

His wound was closing up, and his head was suddenly clearing. "What?" he said, his voice stronger now, his eyes opening.

"Why… _How_ could you–?" She stumbled on her own words like they were stuck in her throat.

"What?" Julian demanded again.

Emma's face clouded over–and yet, it seemed there was some sort of… relief present. "You still love me," she said quietly. Her voice was a calm lake with ripples of different emotions running through it.

Julian wasn't fazed. He _did_ still love her. He would never stop loving her. Because he saw through her charade with Mark, just as he had seen through the lies she had told him to his face the day she said, "It's not enough."

"How can you still love me?" There it was again. Pain. Pain in her voice, in her expression, in her very presence. "After everything I've said to you, everything that I've done, you still…" She sighed, an exasperated sigh full of despair and mingled longing. Shiny droplets fell, yet again, from her eyes–her marvelous, brown, gold-speckled eyes– and landed in her hair–her sublime, multi-colored, golden hair.

"I already told you," he said softly, his eyes seeking out hers and holding her gaze. "I'm not giving up on you. I know what you're trying to do. I've known from the moment I saw you reach for Mark's hand for the first time. I've known from the moment he kissed your cheek the first time. I knew from the very second you said, 'Mark and I would make sense.'"

Emma was now sobbing again. "I'm sorry," she whispered as she wept. "I just wanted to protect you."

"I know," Julian whispered back, reaching to stroke her cheek with his thumb. "I know, and you should never be sorry for that."

Suddenly Emma was gripping him tightly, her head buried in the crook of his neck, her hands wound in his hair. He wrapped his arms around her waist and breathed in the scent of her hair. "I love you," she said.

And all the pain in the world would not be enough to even graze Julian in that moment.


	4. Guilt

**A/N:** Okay, so this one mainly focuses on Mark and Cristina because that's what came to me. If you don't ship them, feel free to skip this one. I'll continue it at some point, though. Hope you enjoy :)

 **Guilt**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

As Mark ran his fingers through Emma's hair, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about how different it was from Cristina Mendoza Rosales's. While Emma's was pale gold–in some places white blond–Cristina's was the polar opposite, an onyx-like black. And while Emma's was soft as smoke, Cristina's was thick and unruly.

 _Stop it_ , he told himself. Cristina wasn't the one he was 'in a relationship with'. She wasn't the one whose hair he was playing with, she wasn't the one whose fingers were drawing circles on his wrist as he caressed her cheek lightly. That was Emma.

They were gathered in the kitchen, having just eaten dinner. An abnormal amount of demonic activity had been detected, and the 'adults' were currently planning what to do, how to act, while the younger residents of the Institute were minding their own business. Julian was pointing to a map on the table that Diana was bent over, Perfect Diego was standing, looking over Julian's shoulder, Emma and Mark himself were sitting at the table, and Cristina was sitting opposite them, next to Diego.

"So I was thinking," Julian said, "that since there was activity in a total of three locations, we would split up into three groups, one investigating here, another here, and the third here." He pointed to the map as he spoke.

"Good idea," Diana agreed.

"Who's with who?" Emma asked. Mark looked at her, wondering if she would ask to be put together with him. Probably not.

"Uh," Julian said. "I don't know, you with me, I guess?" It was no unusual request. They were _parabatai_ , and as such they were stronger together, but Mark still noticed a tightening in Julian's jaw.

He had guessed that Julian and Emma were in love after Emma had come to him with her curious proposition. And ever since that revelation, Mark noticed every time Julian looked at Emma with longing, or every time Emma looked at Julian with guilt.

"Sure," she said, and no one who didn't know of the bond that was much more than platonic love would have guessed that she most likely dreaded having to face what she had done to her _parabatai_. Mark did realize that he was contributing to Julian's pain, but he also knew that it was for the best. He would rather see his brother hurt than stripped of his Marks.

"I'll go with Diana," Diego said to Mark's surprise. He had figured that Diego would want to go with Cristina, his maybe-girlfriend. Things were still unclear. "We have a few matters to discuss."

"Right," Diana replied.

"I guess we'll team up, Mark," Cristina said, smiling.

 _God damn it_ , Mark thought bitterly. _God damn it all_. But he smiled back and said, "Yeah, I guess so."

After cleaning up the kitchen, distributing the teams on the three locations, and dressing in gear for combat, Mark met Cristina outside the Institute. She was flicking a balisong about, folding and unfolding it skillfully. Her expression was almost bored.

Mark chuckled as he came to a stop before her. She raised an eyebrow.

"What?" she asked.

"Show-off," Mark teased, quirking a half-smirk.

"Psh, you wish you were as good as me," Cristina retorted.

Mark laughed, shaking his head. "Shall we take off?"

They ran into a pack of werewolves tearing apart a small cluster of Moloch demons, and were happy to assist in defeating them. When the fighting was over and the lycanthropes were thanked and bid farewell to, the wounds were attended to.

As Cristina drew an _iratze_ and a blood replacement rune on Mark's shoulder, she suddenly said, "You know, don't you?"

Even though Mark knew exactly what she was asking, he still said, "Know what?"

Cristina gave him a pointed look. "If you don't know, it is not my place to tell you. If you do know, then you realize what I'm talking about, and you are just being a jerk."

Mark kept his face straight. "I know." Cristina was also keeping her face straight. He wondered what she was concealing.

"They're not very good at hiding it, huh?" she said, her voice carrying a slightly sad tone.

"Not when you know," Mark agreed. "Emma told you?"

Cristina nodded.

"When?" he asked.

She sighed. "A long time ago. Long before it even made sense to her. A time when she thought he didn't love her back." Her brow furrowed. The stele was limp in her hand, the runes finished. "Maybe it had been better if he hadn't."

Mark sighed as well. The situation was difficult, to say the least.

"She came to you?" Cristina asked, meaning their forged relationship, he figured.

He nodded. "I don't know if she thought she was being subtle, but it didn't take a lot of thinking to figure it out."

"Mhm," Cristina voiced her comprehension. "You sell it well, though," she encouraged. "At least on your part. I don't know about Emma–I think it's hard on her, having made that choice."

He nodded again. Despite himself, he noticed the rosy flush of her cheeks, the smooth, brown skin of her hands, the pink of her lips.

She met his eyes, and all previous thoughts were lost to him. It was a strange thing, this empty expanse of thought she induced. He had never experienced anything like it before her, not even with Kieran.

And then, amid the emptiness, a thought appeared. Was it possible that she felt the same way? No, it couldn't be. She was with Perfect Diego. And yet, before Diego's arrival, there had been a moment between them, when she had cut his hair and he had thought how lovely her gentle hands had felt against the skin of his forehead…

He didn't know how long they sat, looking at each other, but then, as he gazed at her face, a trickle of blood appeared at her hairline.

"You're bleeding," he said and brought his sleeve up to wipe away the blood.

Cristina touched her head gingerly. "Oh," she said. "I hadn't noticed. Is it bad?"

Mark examined her head. There was a small cut, most likely from a fall she had taken. "No, it's not serious." He leaned back and drew his hand with him, letting it linger _ever so slightly_ on her hair.

She closed her eyes and sighed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, brow furrowing.

She didn't say anything. What he wouldn't give to know what was going on in her mind.

The Toyota pulled up next to them, and Emma and Julian got out. Emma immediately went to Cristina's side– _Ouch, we're supposed to be dating, Emma_ , Mark thought.  
"Are you okay?" Emma asked.

When Cristina opened her eyes, they were fixed on Mark's. "Yeah, we're fine."

 **TO BE CONTINUED.**


	5. Guilt (Part 2)

**A/N:** Okay, so I actually used the Shadowhunter's Codex for the fighting scene in this one, and I'm pretty damn proud of myself. This is last chapter from Julian's perspective, as requested by  Emma Carstairs Blackthorn, thanks for the reviews! As for Diego and Diana, I don't think I'll be writing the story from their perspective. The "matters to discuss" were really just to get Mark and Cristina alone, teehee. Anyway, that was waaayy too long an introduction, so I'll get right onto it, please enjoy! :)

 **Guilt (Part 2)**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

"You're sure it's here?" Emma asked.

Julian rolled his eyes. "Yes, for the last time, I'm sure," he said. "Let's just wait and see if anything shows up."

Emma heaved a great sigh and sat down right on the grass of the lawn they were standing on. They were outside what looked like an abandoned house–there were no lights on, the windows were boarded up, and the entire yard was devoid of life. Even the grass was a light brown color and crunchy as Julian sat down next to Emma.

He sneaked a glance at her face, which showed her immense boredom. Of course she had expected to be fighting demons by now. Julian sometimes wondered if she would have gotten herself killed by now if she hadn't had him to keep her in check.

But right now he wondered if she thought she was actually convincing him that she loved Mark. When you spend the majority of your life deceiving people–like Julian did–you learn to detect deception. He had seen the way Emma sometimes leaned just a tiny bit away from Mark when he tried to kiss her cheek–such a small thing that no one else would notice it. Or the way she seemed to never actually initiate physical contact of any kind between the herself and Mark. Julian knew that she didn't love Mark. But at this point he wasn't sure she loved him, her _parabatai_ , either. That night, when she said all of those things, said that she didn't love him enough, he thought about it, and he realized that she had never actually said it. He had. He had many times. But Emma had not once said it.

"How long are we supposed to wait exactly?" Emma asked, impatience seeping into her voice.

Julian sighed. "I don't know, Emma."

"Are you okay?" Emma asked after a pause.

Julian turned to look at her. Her brows were knit together in a worried expression, and Julian fixed his face to be a perfectly blank canvas. "I'm fine," he said.

She didn't look convinced–with good reason. "Why don't I believe you?" she said.

"I don't know," Julian said sarcastically, "maybe because you've been doing a lot of lying yourself these past few weeks."

Emma's face turned as pale as if a bucket of white paint had been splashed right onto it.

They sat, looking at each other, for a while. Then a sound woke them from the trance. The sound of a dozen creatures scurrying across the ground.

"Demons!" Emma exclaimed in surprise, but Julian heard the excitement in her voice. She drew Cortana and ran for the sound.

As Julian picked up his crossbow, they appeared. At least fifteen Drevak demons headed straight for Julian and Emma, their insectile legs dragging their shapeless bodies. Before Julian had even started in their direction, Emma had cut down two. Just as one was sneaking up on her behind her back, Julian let an arrow fly from the now loaded crossbow. It sailed through the air and buried itself deep into the body of the Drevak, which collapsed. Emma was slicing through the demons like a chef slicing onions.

Then suddenly a Drevak latched onto Cortana and ripped it out of Emma's grip. The short sword flew off in another direction as Emma reached for a seraph blade, naming it " _Thaharial_."

Julian shot several other demons with the crossbow and ran to aid Emma. But when he stopped in front of her and pierced the last demon with his dagger, she was clutching her forearm.

"Let me see," Julian commanded.

"It's nothing," Emma insisted.

He reached out a hand. " _Let me see_ ," he said again, more forcefully this time.

She held her arm out. There were several puncture wounds from the spines of the Drevak's mouth.

 _Crap_ , Julian thought. _Poison_. He took out his stele.

"Julian, healing runes don't work on poison," Emma said, "we can call on a Silent Brother–"

"It worked the last time, didn't it?" he said, and Emma fell silent. He reached for her arm and started drawing. When the rune was finished it emitted a faint glow, and Emma tensed up.

But it wasn't nearly as bright as the rune that she had given him when he had been shot by Diego.

"Thanks," Emma said. "Let's go." She headed for the Toyota, picking up Cortana on her way, and got in the driver's seat.

Does it mean what I think it means? Julian asked himself. Did Emma love him less than she used to?

When they arrived at Mark's and Cristina's location, they found them standing in front of each other, Cristina with her stele out. Emma ran to Cristina's side, and Julian noticed that she didn't even look at Mark–judging by his expression, Mark noticed too.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked.

"We're fine," Cristina said, sounding like she meant it just as much as Julian had when Emma asked him–which was not at all.


	6. Bliss

**A/N:** This story doesn't really relate much to the actual storyline in neither the books nor any of my other stories. It's sort of a drabble that happened because I needed fluffy, kissy ( **WARNING** : slightly steamy) Blackstairs in my life.

Btw, response to Emma Carstairs Blackthorn's review: Yes, "normal treatments for demon venom" means calling on a Silent Brother, it says on page 162 of the Codex, and omgthankyousomuch for being proud of me :3

Enjoyyy :)

 **Bliss**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

A warm hand softly traced Emma's shoulder, and her lips stretched into a small smile.

"You're tickling me," she complained. The hand was replaced by lips that pressed lightly against the skin of her neck. She tilted her head, allowing easier access.

"Does this tickle?" a voice asked.

"Hmmm…" was Emma's reply.

Julian snickered in response and wrapped his arm around her waist. "I'll take that as a no." He turned her towards him on the bed that they were lying on and started placing little kisses along her cheek and jaw.

A delightful feeling started in the pit of Emma's stomach, like it always did when he touched her like this. His mouth moved to her temples, across her forehead, down her nose, and then to her lips. She sighed with satisfaction and leaned into the kiss, feeling his warm breath against her skin.

She moved her hands to cup his face as he tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her flush against him. Emma opened her mouth slightly, and Julian seized the opportunity to let his tongue enter. A small sound of pleasure was released from the both of them.

As they pulled apart a moment later, brown eyes were met with blue-green ones. "Hello, there," Emma said playfully, ruffling the hair of the boy lying next to her.

"Stop that," he whined, making a face at her.

She laughed softly and moved her hand back to his face, stroking his cheek. Now he looked at her like he always did when they kissed; like she was the moon on a starless night. And she stared back at him, wondering how something so perfectly imperfect could coexist with the rest of humanity. How this incredible person in front of her was of this world. How he had chosen her, of all people, to spend this day with; to spend _every_ day with.

She saw him lick his lips and her eyes were instantly diverted to them. When she looked back up, his face had changed. Now, it was hungry. And for what, she knew.

They crashed together once again with enough force to knock out the air in Emma's lungs, but she was too preoccupied to notice. She was in another world entirely, where nothing mattered but the feel of Julian's lips on hers, his hands on her body, the sound of his heavy breathing as they abandoned any and all thoughts, except those of love, passion, and lust.

When night had come and gone, and the sun was rising among orange clouds, Julian was sleeping with his back turned to Emma. She was stroking her index finger lightly over the expanse of bare skin, tracing the outlines of figures and letters, hearts and circles, declarations of love and admiration.

He stirred and groaned into his pillow, reached a hand back to touch her leg over the sheets.

She kept on drawing, and he picked up on her message. Turning, he slung one arm across the pillows for her to lie against and placed the other on her stomach.

"You know I love you, right?" he asked, voice still thick from sleep.

 _What a stupid question_ , Emma thought, but she said, "Of course I know, silly."

"Don't ever forget that," Julian finished, voice falling to a whisper as he drifted back into the world of dreaming.

Emma smiled and placed a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth. "How could I?"


	7. Similar Situations and Shared Griefs

**A/N:** Okay, I'm really sorry for being absent for so long. The plot bunny was not paying any visits, but thank to some encouraging reviews (thank you  RealLifeShipper and Lost-In-A-New-World) I finally got myself together and wrote something decent enough to publish :P This is another two-part (if not more) story. The first part features Emma, Julian, and JACE OMG! It's honestly been so long since I've written anything with Jace in it, so I loved writing this. The second part will feature Cristina, Mark, and Diego (maybe more), and it will once again be the same time frame, just from a different perspective. I hope you all enjoy! :)

 **Similar Situations and Shared Griefs**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

Emma Carstairs didn't cry. Not since the dark war. Not since her parents' deaths.

And yet, here she was. Sitting at the foot of her bed, facing the door, softly sniffling while salty tears made their way down her agonized face.

It was the look on his face. The look on her _parabatai_ 's face as he watched her and Mark. She couldn't bear the hurt and betrayal evident in his expression, the emotions reserved solely for her, the cause of all his pain.

There was a knock on the door. Emma hastily wiped her cheeks as the door opened slightly, and she thought, _Not him_. _Please, not him_.

Jace Herondale poked his head inside. When he saw her tearstained face, the rest of him quickly followed, and he closed the door again behind him. "Hey," he said, compassion and worry visible on his face.

Emma sniffled quietly. "Hey."

Jace sat down next to her on the bed. "What's wrong?" He and Clary were staying at the Los Angeles Institute while investigating a demon episode alongside Diana.

Emma heaved a small sigh and shook her head. "Can't tell you," she said, wishing that she could. Her lip trembled. She desperately needed someone to tell her that what she was doing was right, and Cristina was with Diego.

"I'm sorry," Jace said.

Emma's brow furrowed. "About what?" she asked.

"Your situation," Jace simply said.

Emma's eyes widened. _He knows?_ she thought. She looked at him, her gaze guarded and alert.

"I was in one quite similar many years ago, you'll remember," he said gently.

Emma didn't move. "Except everything worked out for you," she said, a sliver of ice creeping into her voice. "It won't for me." Her voice fell to a whisper.

Jace shrugged. "I don't know about that. You never know when things might make a turn for the better."

Emma met his gaze, her eyes displaying perfectly that she did not think that was the case.

"Alright," Jace said, his hands up in a defensive, slightly resigned gesture. "Then I'll just express my utter and sincere sympathies."

Emma turned her head away, more tears emerging, then travelling down her cheeks. A thought suddenly appeared in her head about that time when Clary and Jace thought they were related. "Did either of you ever lie to the other?" she asked, turning back to face him. Jace looked confused. "When you thought you couldn't be together," she clarified. "Did either of you lie to… push the other away, to make the other stop loving you?"

"Well, I sort of acted like a jerk to Clary at one point," Jace said, his expression indicating that he wasn't pleased to be reliving it.

"How did you cope with the guilt?" Emma asked. "How did you live with the fact that you were causing the person you loved pain?"

Jace sighed. "I told myself it was for the best," he said. "I was sure she was better off hating me than the _both_ of us suffering because of something we couldn't change. I mean, I could live with her hating me if it meant she wasn't doomed to live with false hope."

Another knock sounded at the door. Emma looked up and wiped at her tears again. "Just a second," she shouted at the door, hoping her voice didn't betray her conflicting emotions. She turned to Jace. "Thanks," she said.

"I haven't actually helped, have I?" Jace said, frowning somewhat.

"You have," Emma protested. "A little. It's always nice to have someone to share your grief with." She smiled, albeit bitterly.

Jace got up and bowed in a mocking fashion. "Always at your service, my lady," he said and smiled charmingly, and for a second he reminded Emma of Mark and his formal behavior when he first came back to the Institute.

Emma walked Jace to the door and opened it, revealing Julian.

Jace waved at Julian, simultaneously greeting him and bidding him farewell, then Jace disappeared down the hall.

Emma swallowed. Julian scrutinized her face. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She simply shook her head at him, looking down at the floor. He placed one hand on her shoulder, the other under her chin, and tilted her face up to look at him.

"What's wrong?" he said again, slowly, carefully, dragging the words. "Is it Mark?" As Julian said his brother's name, his face changed, as it always did, into hurt and betrayal, but this time with a hint of anger, as well. "Did he do something? Did he hurt you?"

Emma shook her head again, but she couldn't keep the tears back anymore. After nearly five years of perfect self control, of keeping her emotions in check and at bay, she had opened up the emotionally despairing part of her mind, and apparently she was not about to close it again. She bit her lower lip, which had resumed its quivering, as her eyebrows knit together in hopelessness.

"Oh, Emma," Julian breathed and embraced her tightly, kissing the top of her head.

For a moment, with Julian's strong arms around her, Emma was able to forget that they couldn't be together, that they would never kiss again, that they would never date or marry or have children. That they would never grow old together in any other way than as _parabatai_. For just a moment she hugged him back and imagined that they were just two people, a boy and a girl, in love.

Then reality hit her like a wave in her face. She stopped crying, and she pulled away from him, her face blank. "Was there something you wanted?" she asked.

Julian looked at her like he didn't know her. "No," he said, turning around. She watched him turn a corner and disappear from sight. Just a moment after, Mark suddenly appeared, coming around that same corner.

"Mark," Emma said, her eyebrows rising a fraction. She wondered if there were still signs of crying on her face. If there were, he didn't say anything about it. In fact, he didn't say anything. He strode up to her and kissed her, no greeting, no hesitation.

The impact left Emma swaying backwards, but she regained her balance and found herself leaning into Mark's embrace. She needed to forget as much as he evidently did. She briefly wondered what had happened to make him like this. But the thought soon left her mind as she and Mark stumbled into her room and the door shut behind them.

They didn't know Julian was watching.


	8. Landscape

**A/N:** Okay, so first of all, so sorry about the four month hiatus. Second, part 2 of Similar Situations and Shared Griefs will probably be the next chapter I publish, but it's just not quite done yet, so this one will be first! (It's not a part of Similar Situations and Shared Griefs.) Third, this started as a very simple drabble about Julian appreciating Emma training, but then things happened, and it became a bit more than that, but I still like it, and I hope you all do, too! :)

P.S. I wrote this while listening to the song "Landscape" by Florence + The Machine (AKA my favorite band of all time), and it was also very much inspired by it, specifically the line at the beginning of this chapter, so I would recommend listening to it while reading—it's a really great song.

 **Landscape**

A Blackstairs fanfic, by _OTP-addict_

" _She's just like the weather, can't hold her together_." — Florence + The Machine

To Julian, watching Emma fight was like watching a professional dancer. The way she turned and spun and jumped, and the way she swung Cortana, the blade blazing like the sun, amazed him. He liked to paint her like that, her hair swinging around her face like uncontrollable strands of white-hot wire.

She twisted her body in a way that normal people couldn't. And if anything, Emma was extraordinary. No one fought quite like her. She had a specific style that Julian knew by heart, and above all else it was graceful. She might be slaying demons, but she didn't in the slightest look like it was something that concerned her much.  
She looked like she was doing the performance of her life and was enjoying it immensely. And in a way, fighting _was_ performing to Emma, Julian knew. This was what she was best at—the thing that made her stick in people's memories. And in Julian's.

No matter how hard he tried, Julian could just not stop the overpowering feelings he had for his _parabatai_. Loving Emma, Julian thought, was like driving too fast, and _knowing_ you were driving too fast, then slamming on the brakes only to realize that you were stepping on the accelerator. He knew how he felt about her, and he _knew_ that she felt something, at least _something_ for him that went beyond the boundaries of the traditional _parabatai_ bond.

But then she had to go and say she didn't. That she loved _Mark_. And Julian thought he knew why, but with every fibre of his being he also felt that there was more to it; something he didn't know.

Either way, with every attempt to dull down or repress his feelings, they burned brighter, went deeper, and every passing day he found that he longed to touch her again, like he once had.

Now, as he stood in the training room watching her move around the room with Livia and her saber, he knew he would soon have to kiss her again. If he didn't he might as well perish.

"Ouch," Livvy exclaimed, having fallen to the floor.

Emma strolled over to where her sparring partner was sitting, rubbing the arm that had taken a blow from the flat side of Cortana. "Sorry," she said, an apologetic smile on her lips as she held out her hand and helped Livvy up.

"Damn right, you're sorry," Livia muttered under her breath, and Julian chuckled.

Unfortunately for him, this alerted the pair to his presence. They both turned their heads in perfect sync, which under other circumstances would have amused Julian. From his hiding place behind the door to the training room, he made a face and moved to flee, but Emma's voice stopped him.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He could tell that she was speaking with an ever so slight tinge of sympathy to her voice, as she had been with nearly every word she'd said to him the last few weeks. He had told her that he would not give up on her, and she had made it clear when she started seeing Mark that she very much wanted him to give up. But that didn't discourage him.

"Nothing," he said, the hint of a challenge in his voice. "Just watching you train."

Emma looked suspicious, but said nothing in response.

"Okay," Livia said slowly, "so, can we continue?" Emma turned back to the saber-wielding girl.

"Sure," she said brightly. But as usual, Julian could hear the falseness of her cheery tone.

As he was walking down the hallway, away from the training room, he saw a smudge of bright gold out of the corner of his eye. His brain automatically thought, _Emma_ , and having just gotten his hopes up, he turned—and saw Mark. Hard as he tried, he couldn't quite conceal the look on his face; hurt, anger, betrayal.

To his surprise, though, Mark's face was an expression of quiet sadness. This only angered Julian further. What did Mark have to be unhappy about? Mark was with the girl Julian could only dream of. Mark didn't have any laws against him. Mark didn't have a whole family of four children to worry about.

"What?" Julian asked, a bit more harshly than he meant to.

Mark said nothing for a while, he just took a few steps closer. Then he took a deep breath, and as he let it out, he stepped around Julian and continued on his way, leaving Julian staring in the opposite direction of his brother. The surprise temporarily added to his features eventually faded, and he bit his lip, shook his head, and took one last glance into the training room. Sweat was gathering on Emma's skin like little, bright pearls, and her hair shone as a star on the verge of a supernova. And Julian told himself that things would look up. Soon.

 **A/N:** In case you're wondering, Mark doesn't say anything because he's promised Emma that he'll lie to Julian, but really he wants to tell Julian that he knows about what's going on between Jules and Emma, so he's just really frustrated :P


	9. Home (SSSG Part 2)

**A/N:** *Sigh* Again, so sorry about the gaps between uploads, but you know… school, getting my driver's license, travels, etc. This is part 2 of Similar Situations and Shared Griefs, with some long-awaited (I'm looking at you,  Lost-In-A-New-World) Cristina and Mark! And the Blackthorn kids make a small appearance, too :) As I mentioned in the first part of SSSG—look at me, making abbreviations for my work, now I'm a real fanfiction author—this is the same time frame, but different perspective, just like Guilt parts 1 and 2. Feel free to skip if you're not fond of Mark and Cristina ;) Translations for the Spanish phrases are at the bottom (excuse me if some of it is incorrect).

P.S. This is the longest chapter so far, whoop! Enjoy!

 **Home (Similar Situations and Shared Griefs Part 2)**

A Blackstairs fanfic, _by OTP-addict_

"Are you sure you are okay?" Diego asked Cristina.

After a good three hours of tracking down a rogue vampire, and then disposing of it, they had both been beaten up well. But a few healing runes had done the job.

" _Estoy bien_ , Diego," Cristina said, annoyance creeping into her head. For someone who was supposed to be oh-so-smart he was quite slow to understand that, yes, _she was okay_.

They walked together into the Institute, and Diego stopped just inside the entrance, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you smell that?" he asked.

Cristina sniffed the air experimentally. She frowned and turned towards Diego. " _¿Comino?_ " she asked.

"If that means cumin, then yes," Emma said, appearing from the kitchen. "Julian and I made Mexican food—" She hesitated. "Well, that is, Julian made it and I cheered him on."

Cristina laughed, starting towards Emma to give her a hug. "Thank you," she said.

Diego was quietly smiling. Cristina guessed that he knew this was more for her than him.

"Well, let's not just stand here and let all that Mexican goodness go to waste!" Emma said, gesturing towards the kitchen. "You must be hungry."

They moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table where the rest of the Blackthorn children were already bustling about, finding their seats.

Christina watched them all. Dru looked at Diego dreamily, Livvy and Ty were—for the tenth time—in an argument about becoming _parabatai_ , and Julian and Emma carefully avoided eye contact. Sitting at the table with her new family, Christina felt somewhat more at ease. The homely food and the familiar company was a relief and a blessing which Christina was completely and thoroughly grateful for. As she looked up, her eyes met Emma's, and they smiled at each other, Christina mouthing a silent ' _thank you_ ', Emma returning it with ' _no problem_ '.

With a full belly and a warm heart, Cristina lay on her bed, reading. But even as she still felt the heat and love poured into the food and the previous conversation, her mood grew dimmer. So much time had passed since she had last been home, in the D.F., and she couldn't help but admit to herself that she missed it. She even missed her mother, tart remarks and all.

And with memories of her home and her family came of course the memories of how hurt she had been before she left. Even though she now knew that none of it had been real—at least on Diego's part—she could not stop the sinking feeling in her stomach that accompanied her doubts. What if he hurt her again? For real this time?

She needed to find him, to tell him about her fears, to make him promise not to hurt her again. She hurried out of her room, headed towards the library where she knew Diego was keeping up his academic skills, but when she rounded the corner of the hall leading to the library, she ran straight into Mark.

Suddenly she was against his chest, her bent head bumping awkwardly into his chin. She drew back, looked up, and said, "Sorry."

Mark exhaled in what Cristina assumed was supposed to be a laugh of some sort. "No, I'm sorry," he said. "I should have been looking where I was going."

"No, no," Cristina said. "I'm sorry, I was in a hurry. I didn't see you." This was a rare occurrence. She was noticing Mark more and more. She almost couldn't help it.

He smiled crookedly—which she found absolutely adorable—and said, "Are we just going to keep arguing about whose fault this is?"

Despite her gloomy mood the corners of Cristina's mouth pulled up into a small smile.

"You said you were in a hurry," Mark continued. "Where's the fire?"

Cristina's face fell, and she hesitated. She really did not know how Mark felt about her—emotionally, that is. The whole offer of a physical relationship he had given her had been such a disappointment to her. She had actually been able to see something real in him, something that told her she might be able to learn to trust someone with her heart again, after Diego.

And when she had cut his hair, she didn't know what would have happened had they not been interrupted. She had _felt_ something, and it had seemed like Mark had felt something too.

She decided to just tell him. "I was going to go see Diego," she said, simply.

Mark nodded neutrally, and maybe she was imagining it, but she thought she saw a minuscule change in the set of his eyebrows— _Does this upset him?_ she thought.

"Well, I guess you might as well—" he started.

"It's just…" The words were out of her mouth before she could even think of saying them. She didn't know why. "I miss my home," she continued. "I miss my family and my friends."

He nodded again, but this time the change in his expression was in a more gentle, compassionate direction.

"It is difficult," Cristina said, her gaze moved to the floor and her feet. She didn't know why she was still speaking—shouldn't she be talking to Diego about this? "I left in such a hurry that I didn't have time to think about the consequences, and how… how much I would miss it."

To her complete horror she felt tears welling up in her eyes and desperately looked up at a witchlight lamp, so that the bright light would drive away the tears. But the damage was done; Mark made a small sound of surprise and reached one of his hands up to cradle her face while the other wiped one escaped tear away.

His palm to her cheek, she looked into his gold and blue-green eyes, and what she saw there made her catch her breath. His eyes were full of warmth and affection, and she found herself unconsciously leaning into him.

He leaned in as well, and suddenly her head was full of butterflies, little thoughts conflicting with each other, battling: _Should I kiss him? Should I pull away? How do I even feel about Mark? How do I even feel about Diego?_

And then she was kissing him. And her entire being was flooded with a feeling unlike anything she had ever experienced before. Colors exploded behind her eyelids, an entire rainbow emerging. Warmth spread through her limbs, across her skin, burning her lips and piercing her heart. Her arms came up to wrap around Mark's neck as one of his circled around her waist, pressing her against him. His other hand was still resting gently against her jaw.

The butterflies in her head now invaded the rest of her body, a sensation most foreign. She felt like she had never been kissed before, like every touch, every caress she had ever shared with Diego had been a pale ghost of what it was supposed to be like. This—with Mark—was real, and she felt it as clearly as she felt her pulse rise and her cheeks flush.

As the seconds passed, the gentle sweetness of the kiss burned away to heat and wanting. Suddenly Christina found herself being pressed against the wall behind her, her hair as well as the back of her neck griped with eager force, and most surprisingly, she was responding with just as much passion as she was given.

They broke apart suddenly, both gasping for air. Cristina looked up at Mark, reading the same conflict and confusion in his eyes as she felt. Mark sighed and kissed her again, much more gently this time. Both his hands moved to cup her face, and she grasped his wrists with her own hands, breathing in Mark's smell. She faintly heard the sound of soft footsteps farther down the hall—

" _¿Qué es esto?_ "

Cristina wrenched herself away from Mark so fast that his fingernails scratched her face lightly. "Diego," she breathed, her eyes pleading with the dark-haired boy standing in front of her. "I—"

"Cristina." Diego's voice was like a stab to her heart. His face was hurt, uncomprehending. Then, as his eyes moved to Mark, the hurt quickly became rage. "Who the hell do you think you are?!" he shouted at Mark, moving closer to the both of them while Mark started backing away.

"Look," Mark said, his voice careful, persuasive. "I'm sorry—"

"Sorry!" Diego barked. "You didn't look sorry with your hands all over Cristina— _¡Diablo!_ "

"Stop it!" Cristina yelled. "It's not his fault, it's—"

"Yours?" Diego finished, sneering. He let out a short, bitter laugh. "See, you... you, Cristina, were _all_ on about how _I_ hurt _you_! Is this revenge? Is that what it is?" His voice was rising with each word, and Cristina began to worry that the other residents of the Institute would come running.

"No," Cristina began despairingly. "I don't know, Diego, I just…"

"You just _what_?" This time it was Mark speaking, surprising Cristina. She looked at him, then at Diego.

She took a deep breath, filling her lungs all the way, then letting it out in a rush of air. "I don't know how I feel," she said quietly. Both of them looked like she had slapped them across the face. The sudden silence was overwhelming after the shouting.

"Well, until you do, _you_ stay away from her," Diego growled, pointing at Mark. Diego's eyes were blazing with fury.

"Not if she doesn't want me to," Mark retorted, his own eyes issuing a silent challenge.

 _Ay, madre mía_ , Cristina thought. Mark was not making things better, and the reaction was clear to see on Diego's face. If possible, his expression became even more enraged, and he took another long stride towards Mark, who stood his ground this time and raised his chin. "You—" Diego started, but Cristina scolded him once again.

"Diego!" she yelled sharply. "Don't. _Cálmate_."

Diego shot Mark another heated glare, then he turned and stormed away.

Cristina hesitated. Her eyes met Mark's, and she knew he could see the conflict in them. "I…" She didn't know what she meant to say, and either way she couldn't finish. Not with him looking at her the way he was, not with the still-lingering sensation of his hands on her body, like nothing she had ever felt. Instead she just bit her lip and said, "I need to be alone."

She turned and hurried away, away from both Mark and Diego, and she didn't look back.

 **A/N:** Translations (yes, I am in fact learning Spanish and I've just been on my very first trip to Spain)

 _Estoy bien_ = I'm fine

 _Comino_ = cumin (no surprise there)

 _¿Qué es esto?_ = What is this?

 _¡Diablo!_ = The Devil

 _Ay, madre mía_ = basically like 'oh my God'

 _Cálmate_ = calm down


End file.
